


A World Beyond our Fingertips.

by SarcasticChivalry



Category: Undertale
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternative Universe - Undertale, Female Frisk, Gen, Romance, Sci-Fi, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarcasticChivalry/pseuds/SarcasticChivalry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Frisk referred to as a female, sorry guys)</p><p>Teenage years can be tough; especially when your on the verge of failing the semester, more school absents than you can count on super computer, a ghost of a long dead human swirling your thoughts and actions... and even worse when your company consists of a lazy skeleton blazing up Marijuana every day, a goat mother whose slightly growing gray hairs because of Teacher-related stress, and much much more.</p><p>Frisk; a condescending, wisecracking, coffee-downing, cynical teen in her 16th year of being alive is only doing what a teenager's does: never turning in assignments on time and skipping school, of course.  What else could go wrong at such a beautiful day like this?</p><p>(This story is full of shipping, a lot of subplots but the main one is centered around Frisk & Chara)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Six Feet Under Coffee Ground

_**Question Twelve: Why is war all there is in this world, needless conflicts in the name of peace?**  In the name of total victory?  What a stupid question._

 

Frisk flipped through her homework assignments.

 

_**Question Four: What is the point of war?**  To annihilate those who don't agree with you?  How should I know?_

Frisk pondered this as she flipped through the pages, again, twice, thrice, numerous of times until she finally decided that this test was nothing to worry about.  The questions on the study guide are easy enough to answer, besides, Frisk is passing her classes. 

Frisk stuffed her below par progress report into the pillow, along with the various of letters for Toriel to read... yet they 'somehow' end up lost in the cluster that is Frisk's room.  To say it was messy would be putting it lightly, clothes and discarded cups of possibly coffee laid on the carpet.  Frisk sighed from her desk, leaning up and pushing her lower back forward to hear the glorious pops of her spine. 

 

Determination alone can't help Frisk from getting older, apparently. 

 

Coffee?   

 

Oh yes it does. 

 

Frisk disappeared into her closet, furthest from the door, and opened it.  It was cleaner than her room, surprisingly.  Frisk pulled a robin egg blue jacket from the hanger, and slipped it over her tank top covered body.  Her attendance record isn't the only thing that's gotten bigger since summer, so it's only best if she covers up better. 

 

Down the stairs she goes, into the kitchen.  The most beautiful thing in existence sat on the counter, teasing Frisk's nostrils with the smell of coffee stained blades.  The coffee maker surely is the best invention humankind has came up with. 

 

Frisk opened her counter, all muscle memory, and felt her excited smile turn into a frown.  There's no coffee tins, more specifically: The French Vanilla coffee tins.  Frisk stared the remaining coffee tins down, as if the delicious coffee was to suddenly appear in front of her eyes.  There's nothing here but Donut Shop blend. 

 

Frisk came to the conclusion that she would rather tear her veins from her own arm if she had to force down a mug of Donut Blend coffee.  What kind of blend is Donut Shop Blend, it doesn't taste like the Donut Shop.  A Donut Shop tastes like a shop, not coffee, but why doesn't it taste like donuts more importantly?! 

 

The ground crunched, she looked down to see brown powder on her socked feet.  Frisk's frown turned into a scowl when she saw the reason there were no more French Vanilla Blend (Praise be Upon), a sleeping skeleton with his filthy mitts dugged into the precious blue plastic pot of brown gold.  

 

Soiled. 

 

Sans snorted, waking up with droopy eyes. 

 

"geez," Sans yawned, smacked his lips, and looked up to Frisk lazily.  "why are you up so late, kiddo?" 

 

"Why are you in my house so late, buddy?"  Frisk deflected, her scowl turning into a sour face when she smelled the reason why Sans was raiding her blue plastic pot of brown gold.  The smell of sickly sweet smog came from the living room, Frisk immediately understood what happened.  She hated that thought and wised to curl into a hole. 

 

"uhh, well," Sans chuckles slightly as he talks, his cheekbones literally a shade of blue... actually, they were blue because of his stoned state.  Frisk, herself, didn't understand exactly the point of Marijuana but didn't take the controversial stand for or against the plant.  She doesn't smoke herself, but Sans sure does.  "I was gonna see about that old lamp, you know the lamp that I broke last christmas with a bat?  no?  okay, funny story..." 

 

"What about the lamp?"  Frisk interrupted the stoned skeleton, Sans.  "Why are you in my house at three o'clock in the morning, shoveling my coffee blend into your guzzle, and higher than a shuttle ship." 

 

"ohhh... well, I sorta needed a place to crash for the night,"  Sans giggled softly, as if what he said was the best joke in the world.  "I sorta misplaced my keys to my house." 

 

"And Papyrus isn't home?"  Frisk really didn't want to deal with stoned Sans again.  "What's he doing?" 

 

"I think he was on about something … uh …. about being part of the military," Sans crunched on some coffee ground, it crumbled through his bones and spilt onto his shirt.  Frisk watched in horror as her precious baby flecks scattered across Sans' body, her eyes narrowed as she grew restless.  "I dunno why, I mean, he already has a sport car." 

 

"You're still in debt for, by the way,"  Frisk comments. 

 

"nah, it's all good," Sans continued to rob Frisk of her beautiful coffee.  "draco's a sucker for my stuff, bro." 

 

"What are you, a drug dealer now?"  Frisk dryly accused, Sans met that with a wave of a dismissal boney and coffee ground hand. 

 

"I dunno what you're talking about, kiddo," Sans denied giggily, closing his eyes as he did so.  He opened one lazy eye to Frisk.  "say, how old are ya again kiddo?" 

 

"My birthday was literally yesterday,"  Frisk, voice so dry it made the Middle East flood with water.  

 

"ooohh right!" Sans grins widely, "I was _sooooo_ blazed, that joint was for you though." 

 

"Good god Sans," Frisk rolled her eyes, kneeled down to snatch her coffee ground away from the skeleton.  Her coffee ground might have been a mistake in writing, for it was actually a empty plastic blue container of what used to be Frisk's 'drug'.  "Thanks, I always wanted a high skeleton who can't tell the difference between President Kennedy and Keanu Reeves.... and also an empty coffee container!" 

 

"oh... that was yours?"  Sans tried to prompt himself up, guilt marking his face as he clung to Frisk's pajama covered leg.  Wetness.  "I'm _soooo sorry_ , I'm the worst friend ever...." 

 

"Oh god," Frisk rolled her tongue in her mouth, trying to get the need for caffeine out of her jowls.  Frisk couldn't wait until Sans sobers up, at least Sans is funny when he's not on drugs. "It's fine, it's okay... I can just buy some more." 

 

"really? you're the best,"  Sans sat back down on the coffee grounded floor.  Frisk thought about the mess in the kitchen, seeing globs of ketchup and relish here and there, a discarded blunt in the sink, and bags of demolished snacks littered the area around the pantry.  Frisk carefully stepped over Sans,  her aim was to go to the pantry and grab the broom to clean up before Toriel wakes up and lynch them both. 

 

"To answer your question, you dumb," Frisk grunts as she hits her forehead on the open cabinet door, her forehead ached.  Frisk, finding it difficult to cope with the smell of weed fogging her nostril's desperate attempt to suck in oxygen, found the patience inside of her to close the cabinet softly.  "I'm sixteen." 

 

"ahh... the golden ages of ages..."  Sans rumbles to his feet, his usual blue jacket replaced by a gray hoodie with a lavender t--shirt underneath.  Frisk wasn't very happy at Sans, perhaps it was the pain in her forehead, maybe it was the fact he decided it was a good idea to break into her home and smoke weed.  "I remember when I was sixteen..." 

 

"I remember when you weren't a drug dealer," Frisk dryly responded, reaching the pantry door.  She didn't have to open it, Frisk took the air freshener and the broom.  Spraying the air freshener to help dissipate the fruit-like smell of weed.  "Then suddenly you became Jessie from Breaking Bad." 

 

"yo, that show was the shit!"  Sans whooped,  Frisk physically cringed at the volume of Sans and the audacity of him swearing inside the house.  Frisk held up her index finger to her lips and shushed Sans sharply.  "oh, we're doing this low-key then... heh... I'm pretty sure Toriel wouldn't mind with all the stressin' she does." 

 

"Let's not add 'Frisk doing drugs' to that list, please,"  Frisk rolled her eyes, shoving the air freshener into Sans's hands.  "Spray." 

 

"Aye aye, captain."  Sans saluted awkwardly, tripping.  He tried to hold onto a nearby counter but ended up bringing down pots and pans onto the tiled floor.  Frisk internally screeched in frustration, she ran a hand through her long hair and groaned.  Unless Toriel's gone deaf, or dead, she have definitely heard that. 

 

"Sans why must you inconvenience me without incidental music?"  Frisk pinched the bridge of her nose tightly. 

 

The sound of a trombone made Frisk give up on the condition of the house.  Being hanged is better than dealing with this without coffee. 

 

Toriel came rushing down the stairs before Frisk even walked out of the kitchen, and that was the day Frisk knew God was dead. 


	2. Wind In Rome, Freeze as They Do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Frisk referred to as a female, sorry guys)
> 
> Teenage years can be tough; especially when your on the verge of failing the semester, more school absents than you can count on super computer, a ghost of a long dead human swirling your thoughts and actions... and even worse when your company consists of a lazy skeleton blazing up Marijuana every day, a goat mother whose slightly growing gray hairs because of Teacher-related stress, and much much more.
> 
> Frisk; a condescending, wisecracking, coffee-downing, cynical teen in her 16th year of being alive is only doing what a teenager's does: never turning in assignments on time and skipping school, of course. What else could go wrong at such a beautiful day like this?
> 
> (This story is full of shipping, a lot of subplots but the main one is centered around Frisk & Chara)

"And god was dead," Frisk groaned, sitting up in her pillow-less bed whilst Sans snored on the Air Matress on the ground. Frisk glared down at Sans, even throwing the TV remote at him didn't wake him up. Given his psychokinesis automatically moved the remote away from his head, Frisk learned that Sans can lift things with the power of a blue eye. 

Frisk looked back to the alarm clock, 0400. One hour after Toriel sends Frisk and Sans to Frisk's room with a threat of being baked like a pie. Frisk slipped out of bed, again, and decided she could get ready for school early and leave so she has spare time to not go to school today. Today's Friday, it's mostly study blocks anyways. She's not going to miss anything important, especially not in Monster History. 

Frisk picked up the pillow with all of the notes and took out the out of school suspension note and forged Toriel's signature on it, which is simple to do because Toriel can't for the life of her can't use a pencil. Pens work for her, but if you give her a pencil... you might as well pass off the act of throwing a glass cup into a wall as a form of language and sign that. 

Besides, it's Asgore who really doesn't mind Frisk's constant absents. Although Asgore signs off on Frisk being suspended... Frisk knows Asgore owes Frisk big time. You know, for almost killing her and such when she was eight. 

Frisk grabbed one end of Sans' air mattress and pulled it out of the room, leaving it in the hallway. Frisk pulled the knob from the air mattress and watched it sink under San's weight. That'll teach you about getting me grounded. 

Frisk went back inside of her room to grab a change of spare clothes. She took her essientals, a bra, panties, a yellow-orange gradient shirt with a ORANGE YOU GLAD I DIDN'T SAY BANNA?! message on it, some regular run off the mill jeans... etcetera. 

Clothes in hand, she carefully stepped over Sans' body and entered the bathroom. The bathroom was creamy tan tint because of the lightbulbs lined up over a mirror, the mirror reflects back on the door. To the right was the toilet with a fuzzy seatwarmer on it that's supposed to make it comfortable while you use the latrine.... but made actually made Frisk more uncomfortable than just sitting on the regular seat. 

The shower was next to the toilet, of course, and parallel to the other side of the wall. That other side of the wall has a painting of a dozen Temme defending themselves against a red bad dragon. The history of Temmies must be very deep, if they have to rip off Lord of The Rings to make class interesting. Assuming no one actually knows where Temmies came from, Frisk accepts their existence as human petters... 

Even if Frisk is very allergic to Temmies. 

To this day, Frisk has no idea how they can outstretch their forelegs to chase Frisk around. Frisk turns around to take their tank top off, the thought of a shower was glorious, enough to make Frisk actually rip the tank top off. Frisk went for her bra strap when a familiar cold breeze shot across her spine. 

Frisk, with flushing cheeks of embarrassment, quickly covered her chest. 

"H-hey! You can't be here, Chara!" Frisk exclaimed, quickly wrapping a towel around their shoulders. "Have some decency!" 

"You are literally the one stripping," The demon who comes when it's name is called retorted, appearing in the air in a lazily sleepy pose. Their posh tone to their voice put Frisk on edge, as it always does whenever Chara speaks directly to her. "I mean, I never turn down a good show, but when they look as good as you... well I might just have to reserve a ticket." 

"Are you implying something?" Frisk's cheeks burned with frustration. "I'm not a stripper!" 

"I was not implying anything," Chara held their hands up, a innocent look on their manipulative face spread like jelly on toast. Toast from the 1960's, that is. Meaning not very good spread. Chara was always an ambiguous being to Frisk, never stating their gender because gender in death means nothing. Frisk had experimented with the idea of being Non-Binary, but Frisk quickly decieded that she would rather be a tomboy. "Nothing at all, my dear host." 

Chara stood slightly taller than Frisk, they didn't have a girlish curve to their body and especially around the pelvis, but Chara's shoulders are also no broader than a thirteen year old boy. According to Chara, Chara should be the same age as Frisk because of residential reasons. 

Frisk and Chara share similar characteristics since they both have control over Frisk's bodily genepool. It's then you can see where Frisk's differences lie within the body: Chara's hair is cropped and short, stopping around their shoulders whereas Frisk's hair is poofy and curley but thin. Frisk was told she had brown eyes before going into Mt. Ebott, so that's Chara's. 

Chara, as an individual, was pale in skin tone with chestnut brown hair. Their left eye Ruby red while the other is a darker shade of red. Perhaps garnet. Chara's forehead wears a crown of flowers, very symbolic... Frisk guessed. 

Chara wears a long sleeve green sweater with a yellow stripe going across their abdomen, underneath that sweater was a yellow thin turtleneck. Reddish brown shorts and black long socks to hide their pale legs. Black shoes. Chara's palm's are speckled black; the stains of sin. They come in two colors: red for murder and black for an action of wrath that did not cause the death of anything other than yourself. 

"Okay... if you're implying anything..." Frisk cautiouslly, suspiciously, muttered. She's always on edge whenever the demon who comes when it's name is called is around, because it usually means a siege on her psyche or physical damage. "Why are you here, more importantly, why did you come when I was about to get in the shower?!" 

"Well..." The sleepily façade on Chara broke, and they looked uneasy about something. "It was the only time I could talk to you alone." 

"Alone?" Frisk repeated into a question. "Why, especially after the... oh I dunno... years of trying to take my body?" 

"Well... I could not appear yesterday... there were way too many people to not see a Specter hovering about near the birthday girl," Chara explained, anxious their voice made Frisk's shoulders relax a small bit. Frisk could see the anxiety on Chara's face as they seemingly tried to think of things to say to not let an awkward silence appear. "I didn't want to give anyone the impression that I am either alive or... yeah... that reason too." 

Frisk, as if compelled to do so, traced a scar on the side of her neck nervously... inflicted by Chara. Seeing Chara didn't make Frisk scared or anything, Frisk had already come to the conclusion that Chara wouldn't stop until Frisk gave up on her body. An example of what happens when an immovable object collides with a unstoppable force. Frisk had worse pain than Chara's attacks, Omega Flowey's way to continuously kill Frisk over and over sort of gave Frisk resilience to physical attacks. 

Visits from Chara became more of a inconvenience than a threat, but blades still hurt a lot. 

"I'm uh... sorry... about harming you before," Chara looked away for a second, the awkward atmosphere was so thick... Frisk could smash a forklift into it and it wouldn't leave a scratch on the metaphoric wall. "I lost all sensory feelings and went berserk, but that does not excuse my poor excuse of mental restraint and assaulting you.. I am sorry." 

"...to do what, exactly?" Frisk pressed, the feeling of potential danger sent her chest into a well oiled piston. Frisk let what Chara go unnoticed, that or she's telling herself to pretend she didn't hear it. "You aren't exactly known for just talking, what else do you have in mind?" 

"Do not worry, I don't want to harm you," Chara cautiously approached, levitating. They were very nervous, but Frisk didn't know why. If it was to harm Frisk, again, Chara would have had a sadistic look to her face... but this time... they didn't. "I want to talk, and when I'm finished I'll slip back into your subconscious... no tricks, I promise." 

"O...kay..." Frisk took a reactionary step back. "What do you want to talk about?" 

"Your birthday, I know it was yesterday..." Chara gave a small, curt and... genuine smile? Frisk never seen Chara give a smile that wasn't laced with sadism in their eyes, this one was of acknowledgment. Frisk knew Chara didn't have a soul, there's no emotions for Chara to feel. Unless by proxy, Chara became part of Frisk's soul? But humans can hold onto human souls, maybe Chara is actually trying to be nice? "And it may be too late, and way too out of line for the situation, but I just wanted to congradulate you..." 

This is new. 

"Thanks.. Chara," Frisk blinked, unsure what to do about this new information. Frisk thought for a moment, searching deep in her thoughts for a better response. But nothing of value came, it was just too shocking to think a being that's souless could actually try to be nice. "But why are you telling me this, I thought you hated me?" 

"...because you're my reincarnation?" Chara asked stupidly. "I don't hate you be..." 

"No, because I ate your last bar of chocolate before you died," Frisk retorted dryly, crossing her arms with sass written all over her face. "It was digested for your sins, I'm pretty sure that's why you hate me." 

"I don't hate you," Chara coughed/chuckled into the crook of their elbow. "I can't feel hate, or any negative emotions along with positive emotions. I don't simply have the capacity of hating anyone. Especially when they did no wrong...." 

"So why... did you attack me?" Frisk asked... completely nonpulssed. 

"I was mad with... the possibility of gaining a soul. Especially since you refuse to reset, I guess I kind of lost my reasoning in short bursts," Chara explained, the look of uneasiness causing their pale cheeks to go rosy pink. Frisk looked on with her suspicions confirmed. "I apologize for my lack of self and mental constraint, I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me." 

Frisk waited until she was sure Chara was done speaking, Frisk took a deep breath, her back starting to strain from sitting on the toilet for far too long. Frisk took a deep breath and rotated her abdominal region left and right; snap crackle and pop her spine went. Frisk blinked as she looked back up to Chara. "Do I really need to spell it out to you?" 

"...eh?" Chara gave a confused noise in return. Frisk rolled her eyes shrugged her bare shoulders, Chara looked hopeful. 

"Look, we both know what's going to happen if I say I forgive you," Frisk yawned, standing up and turning her back on Chara. Half expecing Chara to dig a knife into her spine and half expecting Chara to understand what Frisk means. "I'm not ignorant enough to believe people can change in an instant, and I know the stories that relate to this situation." 

"Frisk..." 

"The man hitting wife is so overused, so I'll reverse the roles," Frisk continued, unfazed. Frisk turned her head over her right shoulder, an unrecognizable expression present on her face but it help told the story. "A woman hitting a man isn't unheard of but is definitely less spoken about than the former. A woman hits a man, the man leaves the relationship, the woman pleads for him and promises to change, the man and the woman get back together until the woman hits the man again." 

"That's the alleged true meaning of insanity, isn't it?" Chara responded, Frisk nodded. 

"Shoo, we'll come back to this." Frisk turned back around. "I'm taking a shower."   
\---   
Mentally and physically refreshed, Frisk finally found what she was thinking for, that date that was circled in Asgore's house. Frisk went downstairs and dug throughout the coat-closet. She brushed past Toriel's fancy suit jackets and windbreakers, shovled her custom made blue and pink letterman jacket to the side. 

"Damn dust..." Frisk quietly swore as she hacked silently into her shirt, pulling it up to cover her mouth. The coat-closet doesn't get dusted very often, because of Monster's history with what dust is: it's like cleaning up monster remains. A pair of black spiders crawled on the spider web above, watching Frisk as she scuba dives into the dust bunnies and spider webs. "C'mon... I don't want to be here all morning..." 

The spiders found the calendar. The spider webs made Frisk icky, while the dust from lack of thorough cleaning gave Frisk the sniffles. 

In red ink, after Frisk's birthday, is the day The Dreemurrs found Chara. According to the calendar, and it's been probably some time since anyone's acknowledged Chara's existence. For many years, Chara and probably the other souls celebrated their 'birthdays' completely alone. Whereas Frisk was always surrounded by her friends, no matter how they changed, at least Frisk had what Chara could have had. 

Frisk hadn't forgiven Chara for their attacks, but perhaps she could show her appreciation to their attempt to be friendly to Frisk. After all, Chara was the biggest reason Frisk developed her sense of dry and tasteless sarcasm. A powerful influence a narrator can have when you're unaware of what you're doing when someone else is controlling your movements. 

Frisk rubbed her wrist tenderly, non-existents scars of where the seemingly invisible puppet strings remain on her physical body. Frisk, when she was thirteen, tried so hard to remember the feeling of the puppet strings. 

Frisk still remembered the puppet strings that were attached to her, moving her around as if she had full control. But the timeline reset, and she had full control. She never forgot those transparent strings, everything Frisk got to close to a light it would refract a rainbow of colors that only Frisk could see because of her awareness of the strings. 

It was Flowey... him... that knew how it felt to become a puppet for one timeline out of many... 

Frisk expelled the thought from her mind, knowing it's fruitless to try to remember something that didn't happen. Frisk brushed the dust off of the calendar and stuffed it into her bookbag, which is filled with nothing but snacks and sodas. 

Getting out of the house at 0415 wasn't a big problem, especially since Frisk technically left for school so she could work on her studies but didn't get accepted inside because of school rules. Works for Frisk, so it should work for Toriel if she questions why Frisk left so early in the morning. Frisk took a step outside and instantly regretted locking the door as soon as the house's heating was cut off. 

Outside, it was cold. Snow was falling from the clouds, as exciting as this would be, Frisk watched the news yesterday. There, she learned that the snow isn't going to last past at least 0645. Way before School starts, but Frisk was suspended anyways so it really didn't make a difference. The only difference is, can Frisk last the snow long enough before goes to her secondary job as a Secretary for a CEO of a big company so she could run back inside to dress warmer? 

Toriel never has early morning classes, she takes the afternoon classes instead. This worked and always going to work in Frisk's court, because it gave a few hours to herself without being bombarded with more work by going to school. Besides, there's nothing important going on today. Frisk's morning classes on Fridays are History, Art, and Cooking and her afternoon classes are all study blocks. That's usually where she leaves school anyways. 

Frisk had already locked the door behind her, and too much noise could potentially wake up Toriel and cause another tornado of shite to erupt. But if she doesn't get a jacket, she's going to freeze out here. But if she wakes Toriel up again, looking as if she's running away: Frisk might as well be dead because not breathing would be the only fun she'll be allowed to have. 

On one hand: She could get sick and that would suck. 

On the other: Deal with more of Mom's crap for half an hour. 

It's so hard to decide, seriously. 

The outside, early morning air smelled like flowers. The dark, but pale blue sky still showing the stars as they slowly disappear as the minutes tick by with haste. Frisk knows that no monster in the neighborhood would be awake at this time. Yet, there's the possibility of a wanderer seeing Chara and causing panic. The hills, east to Frisk's school, can provide enough cover to talk to Chara. 

This would've been a good plan, if the familiar feeling of coldness didn't run across her neck. Over her shoulder was a very... frigidity Chara, very unlike them to feel anxious. Chara was never one to be anxious, Frisk gathered. 

"So..." Chara straightened up when they caught their second wind, earning them their still corpse aura around them. Of course, Frisk wasn't impressed with the way this Chara was acting. It was all too... strange for Frisk to see the last person she never thought would change act so... differently. Frisk felt her jaw slightly fall as she came to that conclusion. "Why are you without a jacket?" 

"You couldn't last for more than a minute outside of the house?" Frisk shot, stuffing her hands in her jean pockets. She thought about going back inside and quickly looting a jacket, in fact, Frisk acted on this by quickly running to the doorstep and pulling the keys out of her pocket an stuffing into the door. She shakily let out a fogged breath as she turns the key at the same time Toriel's light came on. "Are you kidding me, when does she ever get up this early?!" 

"Perhaps she was awoken by the sounds of her alarm clock, I mean, I don't know a thing about clocks so..." Chara countered, causing Frisk to shoot them a mean glare. "What? You don't think she actually wants to be in that house right now? It smells like failed comedian weed and Overworked Mom Syndrome." 

"If she's up early, that means she's gonna leave earlier too..." Frisk took the key out of the doorknob, knowing how long it takes Toriel to get ready for her day. Frisk ducked under the windows and behind the bushes that surrounds the house, Chara observed the proximity of the two. Frisk was under the window of the sink, Toriel was washing her reading glasses. Frisk crept along side of the house, Toriel was opening blinds. 

Toriel's heels clicked on the tiles of the kitchen further than Frisk. 

The garden bushes are too low to hide in, let alone hide a grounded teenager and a ghost. 

The door opened and Toriel walked out in a grey suit and miniskirt. Apparently she doesn't know people don't wear suit pants with a miniskirt, but it's a free country. Toriel turned around and locked the door, she looked back at the door and placed a hand on it. Frisk didn't know if this was aimed at Sans or herself, Toriel and Sans have always seen eye to eye. And the relationship between Frisk and Toriel hasn't exactly been greatest, but it's enough to bear. 

Toriel walked to her car, a dark purple car that has six seats, and entered it. She drove away as the car's purring rumbled the sticks and gravel Frisk felt sticking her arms. 

Why? 

Because of the PTA. 

"I think the coast is clear," Chara pointed out, but it fell on deaf ears as Frisk charged for the door with her key. She slipped it into the keyhole on the doorknob and tried to turn it... nothing happened. Frisk pulled the key out and did it again, trying her hardest to open this blasted door with a key that's not working anymore. 

"She changed the locks," Frisk said finally, slumping her head against the wall. "Lord knows I can't call Sans, because either he's too high to open the door or he's playing dead on the floor. EIther way, I'm fucked." 

Frisk shook her head, she had to deal with Snowdin. Snowdin was always snowing, regardless of time of year. Frisk spent at least a day there, this shouldn't be a problem as long as Frisk had Determination... and hopefully a blanket she can steal from a store. 

"C'mon, we're wasting time being here," Frisk picked herself up and moved on, going down the driveway. Chara floated behind her, they had a confused look at Frisk's unexplained behavior. Frisk marched on, despite the cold winds slashing at her like a knife made of ice and the snowflakes felt like acid rain. "You should've waited." 

"Well I would have if you would've told me exactly what you're doing," Chara answered, hovering behind Frisk as they walked the sidewalks away from the school. "Speaking of which, what are you doing exactly?" 

"We're going to a place where no one sees you," Frisk answered truthfully, her hands stuffed in her jean pockets. She looked up, her sense of direction was cut off by the incoming and unwanted face wash of snow. Frisk wiped her face and pressed on. "As dodgy as that sounds, remember that only one of us can die." 

The school became visible over the horizon, seeming smack in the middle of nowhere because roads from all cardinal directions lead to this school. The school isn't terrible, and the work isn't really hard, it's just that Frisk would do what she wanted to do instead of this. Besides, everything other than homework gets down. 

Fuck homework. 

A crossroads exist to make sure no one crashes into each other, they usually have a fat guy on parole here directing the roads. The paroles know Frisk and stay silent when she ditches school, she gives them free pies in exchange for their silence... 

"Don't judge me," Frisk defended, "These people killed for less than a slice of Cinnamon-Butterscotch pie." 

Frisk and Chara continued, approaching the forbidden school zone that Frisk is not supposed to touch. Thankfully, no one cared enough to check Frisk's student id and Chara simply pretended to walk next to Frisk and pretended to be human. 

They went to the east road, labled "East RD", and walked up that sidewalk. Frisk grit her teeth prevent them from chattering, but that didn't stop her from creating goosebumps up and down her skin. Still, she pressed on. Frisk flipped her hair out of her eyes, it flowed against her since the winds were coming in this direction. 

Even though Chara's a ghost, snow still landed on their body as if it was real. However, Chara was not sniffling.


End file.
